


Hot to the Touch, Cold on the Inside

by Lailaps



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 22:38:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6132563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lailaps/pseuds/Lailaps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Will,” Hannibal mutters, his voice slithering around me, pulling me under the thick, black water that is our twisted relationship. How many, I wonder, names has he muttered in this way?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot to the Touch, Cold on the Inside

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics belong to Fall Out Boy, respectively.

How is it possible, I wonder, to feel to utterly intimidated, anxious and aroused all at the same time? The beat of my heart scrapes my sternum, and my hands are shaking. In fact, I’m shaking all over. Cold sweat runs down my spine, but he doesn’t seem to mind, just keeps running his fingers against my naked body. After a silent moment passes, I dare to turn my head and I face Hannibal for the first time since I walked into his office hours ago.

He gives me this look, that is almost a smile, but not just quite. His eyes glimmer, when he leans closer and presses his warm lips against my cold ones. He wraps his arms around me, and presses his hot, dexterous body against my back. Slowly, Hannibal moves his hands down my chest, sliding them across my stomach with ease. He stops just right at the exact spot where my pants would begin, if I had ones.

Hannibal’s breath is cool and steady on my neck, and I close my eyes. At this moment, I am not shutting the reality around me outside. I am breathing it in, everything. The subtle scent of lavender and mint, the warm feeling I cannot name, Hannibal’s lips against my neck and back, his hands against my stomach. And this unnerving feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Will,” Hannibal mutters, his voice slithering around me, pulling me under the thick, black water that is our twisted relationship. How many, I wonder, names has he muttered in this way? His voice is persuasive, it beckons me to believe in words I know are lies. And I cannot say anything, when I submerge myself in his lies, and his lies are the only reality that I shut away, only one I turn my back to at this very moment.

Sex would be a word too graphic, too vulgar, to describe it. Making love feels more suitable, and love is actually the unnerving feeling in the pit of my stomach, which turns and twists with every word and look Hannibal bestows upon me.

_They’ve got us surrounded; we’re in their sights_  
_But they’re not taking us alive_  
_Hot to the touch, cold on the inside_  
_But they’re not taking us alive_

_If it’s never been broken_  
_Can’t believe in it_  
_Now you’re just a problem_  
_For someone else to fix_


End file.
